


ᛒᚱᛅᚢᛏᛁᚴ - Breyting

by Tevlyn_Tauly



Series: ᚠᛅᛋᛏᛦ  ᚴᚾᚢᛏᛦ - firm knot [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ABO, M/M, Omegaverse, Viking AU, alternate writing style 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 12:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tevlyn_Tauly/pseuds/Tevlyn_Tauly
Summary: A look back in an alternate writing style at some events before the birth of Argentum Lucis Caelum.





	ᛒᚱᛅᚢᛏᛁᚴ - Breyting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quicksilver_nightsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilver_nightsky/gifts).



> Translations and Runes are from Dr. Jackson Crawford's patreon of which I am subscribed. Check him out on youtube, he's awesome. 
> 
> Another note: Happy Birthday, Q!
> 
> The title means Change.

Prompto knew the truth of his birth – his family lived in one of the small villages in the iciest region of Niflheim; ice fishing and adapting were the only ways to survive. His parents, Ranveig Sinfiotlidottir and Slode Asketillsson, were the Argentum’s, workers of silver from the mines nearby, and most would assume they were a perfect little household – except Slode was not Prompto’s biological father. That fell to a scientist of the Empire, Verstael Besithia, who had captured Ranveig and forced her to carry children for him. This had produced Prompto, and four brothers overall, all almost exactly alike and very close copies of Verstael. Not to mention the tens of half-brothers Verstael forced other women to carry. Prompto knew he owed his life as a decent person and well protected Omega to his Mother stealing him and running away.

His brothers had already been made into beasts of metal and scourge by then. Despite the efforts, the pumped black sludge entering his veins and pressing under his skin, it had refused to infect him, as though he had a purpose outside of Besithia’s sick desires. It was not a hard decision for Ranveig, taking her only remaining son and returning to the husband she loved. Slode had taken Prompto on as his own, unable to father his own line because of an injury to his balls years previously.

It was his origins, and the knowledge thereof, that made it so painful the day the Empire attacked Fjaroara; for years, they had escaped notice, years Prompto had been able to grow into a sweet, kind and sunshine-like Omega only for it all to crumble under the weight and sound of shrieking metal.

“Run, Prompto!” Slode had begged him, axe holding back the bloody sword of a Magitek soldier. He had fled, sprinted as fast as he could across the snow and ice, but all for naught. A General had spotted him, sent soldiers to hunt him until he was too tired to do anything but collapse to the floor. Caligo Ulldor leered at him and declared him the Omega for his squadron from now on. On the edge of death from hypothermia, Prompto had been loaded into one of the Empire’s transports and shipped with the squad, right into the path of the Prince of Lucis.

The raid had started at dawn, gates and walls scaled by the strong and determined Vikingr of Lucis. He had barely been awake a few hours, scrambled from the infirmary on trembling legs to find the storage room. He ducked into the box-filled room, leaning on them to make his way through. Unaware of the Vikingr Prince heading his way, Prompto made to go for a vent so he could hide, but a heavy body rammed into him, dropped him to the floor. He wrestled the person on top of him, until he was pinned on his back, with an Alpha breathing on his neck. He tilted his head, submitted, and the body climbed up off him. Prompto had stared up at the handsome Prince who offered him a hand after tackling him to the ground and, still recovering and unused, had accepted it. He knew he would be a thrall either way, but at least he had heard good things of the Lucians. The rumours were true for the Prince. He had settled Prompto into a small room adjacent to his own, with luxurious furs and soft pillows and his first task had been to clean the armour the Vikingr had worn that day. No hands wandered, gazes seemed to be as limited as the Prince could stand, and Prompto could not help the heavy thudding of his heart every time he saw the warrior naked.

“Wash me,” the Prince demanded, voice soft despite the command, and leaned forward in the large tin bath. Prompto knelt behind him, cloth in hand, as he lathered it with the special soaps. He caressed the pale, scarred skin slowly. The back of the neck earned a growl of appreciation, down to the meeting of neck and shoulder had the Prince breathing heavily through his nose. Prompto’s heart raced as he moved down the Prince’s back, careful of the large mass of scar tissue. He pressed against the Prince’s back to reach around and wash the lithe, muscled chest, slipped down slowly over the flat belly and towards the generous Alpha’s cock. The Alpha stopped his hand by grabbing it, guided it down and let Prompto drop the cloth and pull away at the last minute. It was the first hint of the desire between them.

Noctis, his Prince’s name, bore scars from battle but each knot of pale insensitive skin on the lithe, muscled body called for Prompto’s fingers. The mess at Noctis’ back was soft to the touch. He was careful not to press too hard as he worked the muscle beneath with his slim fingers while the Prince laid face down on the bed, a few scars across Noctis’ collarbone earned gentle care, and a scar running along the back of the head inspected as he helped the Prince bathe. Soft touches from the Omega earned pleased smiles, and the Alpha Prince began to bring little things back from raids.

“I got you something,” Noctis told him, still sweaty and dirty from battle. The gift was a new set of wooden bangles, carved with ᛁᚴᛁ ᚠᚢᚱᛚᛅᚴ ᚾᛁᛘᛅ ᚦᛅᚢᛋ ᚢᛁᛦ ᚢᛁᚴᚢᛘ. Prompto had traced his fingers over the runes and smiled softly. “No fate but what we weave,” he had whispered, understanding then what Noctis was telling him. Nothing would happen without Prompto wanting it just as much. And he did. Prompto had leaned in to steal Noctis’ lips in a kiss, lightly chapped and scratchy against his own but he had given the raven Prince permission to court him.

Noctis took the courtship very seriously. Prompto met King Regis, who welcomed him with open arms and a soft smile, as well as fierce rules and warnings to protect himself. The gifts became more elaborate. Noctis hunted a beast in the depth of winter and gifted a fur cape big enough to wrap around Prompto twice; when he proved to be proficient with the bow and arrows, Noctis gifted a specially made bow with the finest arrows and carvings of the prophesised Ragnarok. New clothes that reflected his status as the Prince’s chosen delivered one bright morning before he could start work in the healer’s rooms.

He loved every gift with his whole heart, but the final courtship gift had him in tears as he accepted it. Noctis had been apprenticed to a Blacksmith when he was younger and had kept up with it, secretly making Prompto a crown of his own in the precious Silver the Argentum’s had been named for. It was intricate, proving the fiddly work, with snapdragons and vines as the theme as a soft compliment to the sharper crowns of the King and Prince.

“I love you,” whispered into Prompto’s ear as they curled up in bed together at night. “I adore you,” spoken against his neck as Noctis kissed his way down. “You are my Freyja,” breathed against his stomach as the Prince pinned his hips to the bed. “I will protect you,” sworn into his ear as the Prince pressed his cock into him. “I will worship you,” panted before biting at Prompto’s neck and pressing the swollen knot in. “I will only ever be with you,” promised, as Noctis filled him over and over. “You are my world,” cried with happiness as Prompto’s belly started to swell.


End file.
